Xenografts: Ruby Red
by Izaranna
Summary: 'It's been two days since his birthday, he's only had a packet of crisps since the day before and quite frankly, the boredom was kind of killing him. He might have to resort to interacting with Dudley if this kept up. Oh the horror.' Mildly gender-swapped cast, mostly because I could. First Year AU [Sequel up!]
1. Professor Lupin

**Xenografts: the cell, tissue or organ that is transplanted from one species to a different species.**

 _ **Note: Fleamont Potter is the official, Pottermore name for Harry's grandfather. In addition, I do not own Harry Potter.**_

* * *

Because certain things aren't supposed to make sense, and quite a few do, regardless of contrary persuasion, Harry Fleamont Evans had the unfortunate luck of being stranded, marooned, and all manner of likewise dramatic words, in a hut on a rock, with crisps for rations.

Tummies a-grumbling, sea a-churning, minds a-whirling; thus sat the prior residents of Number Four Privet Drive.

"Vernon, darling, we've been here for two days now," began a horse-faced woman. "Surely…surely they've given up on the boy."

Said boy was yawning something terrible, and felt that yet another year had been wasted with people who couldn't care less that an entire day of his being illustriously eleven had gone by. Perhaps if Dudley hadn't looked two snorts away from an all-out hormonal rampage, he would have poked him in retaliation. As things stood, however, Harry wold have to make do with being utterly bored, hungry, and desperate for a shower.

"No Petunia!" exclaimed a slightly feral obese man, his moustache quivering indignantly. "We can't be one hundred percent certain that—"

"Daddy…" Dudley moaned. "I don't feel so good…"

Now Petunia's own jaw was quivering. "Vernon, maybe Dinky Diddums has food poisoning! Oh, we must take him to the hospital!"

Dudley clutched his stomach, groaning. Harry counted the spiders in the corner of the room, wondering if it was possible to colonise them.

"I…I…" Vernon seemed to be arguing with himself. Harry wondered whether he would lose. "Oh, all right! Come then. There's a little boat—"

Harry suddenly got up. "There's a woman standing at the door."

Sure enough, a windblown woman with greying honey hair, dirt under her nails and shabby clothes stood at the door, staring at the huddled four. "Am I coming at a bad time?" she asked politely.

Petunia shrieked.

"A very bad time, then?" the woman said, smiling apologetically. "I'll leave soon, of course, but I must give Mr Evans his letter. For some strange, all-together incomprehensible reason, he seems not to have read it just yet. I'll be out of your hair soon. Just, a reply would be nice."

"A reply?" squeaked Vernon. "A reply would have rid us of your bloody owls?"

The woman nodded. "It said so in the letter, but I suppose, if Mr Evans hasn't read it, he couldn't very well reply." She chuckled at her little joke. "Now, you must be Mr Evans, correct?"

Harry started when he realised she was staring at him. "Yes, yes I am. Harry, I mean."

The woman nodded. "I see quite well. You have your mother's eyes. I quite liked your mother. Cheeky, and a bit nutty."

"I'm a bit nutty too," Harry informed the woman in confidence.

The woman nodded. "The best people are. Oh my! I haven't introduced myself yet, have I? I'm Professor Lupin, twice initiated into the BCF, and thrice winner of Witch Weekly's Most Ineligible Spinster award. Consecutively, you understand."

Harry nodded. "The BCF?"

Professor Lupin nodded solemnly, with a light glint of mischief in her eyes. "Yes, quite. Would you like your letter, Mr Evans?"

"Just Harry is fine, Professor Lupin."

The woman handed him his letter. Petunia shrieked once more. "He's not going!"

Professor Lupin gave Petunia a polite stare. "Why ever not?"

"Going where?" Harry asked, feeling that he might as well.

"To Hogwarts, of course."

Harry felt that he ought to say, "What is Hogwarts?" and, after some consideration, he did just so.

Professor Lupin gave an even smile to Vernon, who had whipped out a gun and was in the middle of threatening her with it. "Oh, it's the most magical place in the world. We have feasts, and friendly ghosts; a poltergeist that likes to make up silly rhymes, enchanted stairways, a half-giant Gameskeeper, and _Quidditch_. You'll adore it, if you choose to go."

"Is it an amusement park?" Harry asked.

Professor Lupin pulled out a stick, zapped Vernon with it, and turned to Harry. "No, Mr Evans. It's a boarding school."

Harry stared at the petrified obese man with unseeing eyes. "I don't know…"

Petunia shrieked.

"How much more of this I can take," he finished. "Where do I sign up?"

Professor Lupin gave him a kind smile. "If you'll come with me, Mr Evans, I will take you to the wizarding post office. A domestic owl will do."

Dudley chose to remain silent. Petunia massaged her husband's rotund belly.

"Wizarding?" Harry asked.

Professor Lupin looked put out. "Merlin, Petunia! Not even the bare minimum?"

Petunia puffed up indignantly. "My brother—"

"Your brother was a wizard, and it's high time you stopped being in denial about it," said Professor Lupin with thinned lips. "Honestly woman…how Liam Evans could be related to you, when he was so nice…"

"My father?" asked Harry eagerly. "He was a wizard?"

Professor Lupin looked at him with misty eyes. "Oh, yes, and your mother was a witch too. Both of them were delightfully talented, and magical. I suspect you will be too."

"My mother too?" asked Harry, even more eagerly, getting up off the floor.

Petunia's shrill voice cut in. "Jamielle Potter was a whore! A manipulative whore who married my bastard of a brother and then had a changeling like _you_ —"

Suddenly, after a zap, Petunia had no mouth. Professor Lupin looked livid. "Jamie was a beautiful woman with amusing eccentricities. Nothing about her charm required sexual explicitness! Except that one time in Fiji…but we don't discuss Fiji!"

Harry, who had never heard much about his parents, was liking them more and more. "What happened in Fiji?"

Professor Lupin looked a bit awkward. "Like previously stated, Mr Evans. We don't talk about Fiji, except in passing. Makes for interesting half sentences, if nothing else."

Harry kept that in mind.

* * *

 **I've written out the first book of the series completely, so it's just a matter of uploading the chapters for this story, unlike all my other ones. It's a far more drabbly affair than my other stories, and I enjoyed the experiment. Regardless, I hope _you_ enjoy it! :)**


	2. Diagon Alley

**Xenografts: a cell, tissue or organs that are transplanted from one species to another different species.**

 _ **Note: Harry looks a bit...different from canon, only a tiny bit, but appearances change the way people treat people.**_

* * *

"This is Diagon Alley?" Harry asked, too distracted to pay attention to any one thing.

Professor Lupin smiled. "Yes, indeed. To Gringotts?"

Since Harry had no better alternatives, that is where they headed. Once there, the goblins gave Harry Fleamont Evans a once over and tutted. "Changeling…"

Professor Lupin, seeming not to have heard, produced a key from her pockets.

"Please follow Griphook to your vault, Mr Evans."

Harry did so, noticing that several of the goblins had tripped over on air. "A very interesting spell," Professor Lupin said mildly. "One of many that you will learn at Hogwarts, Mr Evans."

"This is a bank," Harry sort of asked, mostly for clarification.

"Yes, Mr Evans."

"Where I seem to have some valuables," Harry stated, just to be sure he was on the same page.

"Your parents ensured that there would be ample provisions for you, should anything happen to them," Professor Lupin informed him, almost sadly.

Harry didn't have a clue as to what 'ample provisions' might mean, but he figured he would find out if he shut up and let everyone get on with it.

His vault had a lot of money. "Professor Lupin," Harry asked. "How much does adult wizard-wear cost?"

Professor Lupin pondered for a moment before giving the exact amount. "Planning ahead already?" she asked pleasantly.

Shoving the extra money in a bag conveniently found in the vault, Harry nodded, muttering to himself, "About five minutes in advance."

"To Madame Malkins?" she said.

"If you insist," Harry replied.

Once there, Harry purchased nice, not-shabby female adult dress robes, two sets of uniforms, and a rather tasteless bandanna. The boy on the stand next to him frowned. "Shopping for your mother?" he asked with a sneer of confusion.

"No, but if I could, I would," Harry informed him with a contemplative look. "Are you going to the boarding school with the poltergeist that likes to rhyme as well?"

The pale boy thought for a moment. "I suppose you're referring to Peeves. My father told me about him. Nasty piece of work, or so he says. And really, there's only one boarding school in Britain, so I don't see why you couldn't just say Hogwarts."

Harry was grateful the boy had said the name, because Harry had completely forgotten, having heard of it for the first time only a half hour ago.

"Yes, quite," Harry answered. "Will you be shopping for your mother?"

The pale boy sniffed. "She can shop for herself, surely."

Professor Lupin pretended not to snigger at Harry's indignant look. "Of course she can, but it's rather rude not to think of your mother in such arduous times."

The pale boy paled. "Arduous? You're going to Ravenclaw."

Harry stiffened. Perhaps Ravenclaw was the wizarding equivalent of Hell. " _You're_ going to Ravenclaw!"

The pale boy sniffed. " _I'm_ going to Slytherin, just like my father."

Harry's anger instantly dissipated. Apparently, the boy's father was dead—Slytherin must be the wizarding equivalent of Heaven—and his mother and he must have had a strained relationship. Poor boy. Harry tried to comfort him. "I hope everyone goes to Slytherin. Truly, no other place is worth going."

The pale boy nodded. "Especially not Gryffindor."

Gryffindor, Harry surmised, was purgatory. "Well, some people can't help it," Harry said gently. "But if you feel that strongly, I'll agree with you."

The pale boy looked satisfied. "I like the way you think. I'm Malfoy, by the way. Draco Malfoy."

Harry nodded. "Yes, indeed."

Professor Lupin stepped forward. "Perhaps it's time to leave, if you've done with your purchases. To Ollivander's?"

"After you," Harry said. "It was a pleasure to meet you Malfoy. Perhaps, if we do not meet here, we will see each other in Slytherin."

* * *

"A phoenix core, and holly. Curious, very curious."

Harry felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up. "I'm assuming the curiousness isn't of the happy variety."

Professor Lupin placed her hand on his shoulder. Harry found it extremely comforting.

"The core of your wand," Ollivander, with his crazy eyes and fluffy white hair, informed him, "is from a phoenix that gave one other feather. How curious that this wand chose you, when its brother gave you that scar."

"Wait, what?" Harry asked, confused. Didn't he get that rather interesting scar in a car accident when he was a year old?

"We can expect great things from you, Mr Evans, for the Dark Lord did great things. Terrible, but great."

Professor Lupin steered him out of the dusty old room after paying for his wand and directing him to Magical Menagerie. "I suppose Petunia neglected to inform you of your scar's rather malignant origins?"

"I fancied I had a tousle with a bear," Harry informed Professor Lupin in confidence. "Back when I was seven."

Professor Lupin nodded understandingly. "It so happens that what actually happened was not far off the mark. A man who called himself Lord Voldemort, who most people still refuse to call by name, came to your parent's house a bit after your first birthday. He was the, as we put it, _wrong_ sort, who enjoyed killing people indiscriminately. He presumably blasted your front door off its hinges, scared your mother's poor cat, and…well, he was a rather terrible murderer Harry, and you'll forgive me for only implying what he did to your parents."

Professor Lupin swallowed, and Harry comfortingly patted her elbow. "He then came after you," Professor Lupin continued bracingly, "only, he seemed to have blasted _himself_ to bits, instead of doing that to you, and you survived when no one else did. You're rather famous, if you don't mind me saying, Mr Evans."

Harry was mollified, but mostly, he wondered how ridiculous of a bear this Lord Voldemort must have been, to have _missed_ and hit himself with his own spell. Rather clumsy of him.

"It's a rather stupid reason for being famous," Harry said, trying to cheer Professor Lupin up. "But I suppose this Lord Voldemort was a mass murderer and everyone was better off without him?"

"Yes. It was quite a relief when his reign of terror was over, even if a few Death Eaters—his followers, Mr Evans—still walk around, unrepentant, in polite society."

Harry was shocked and looked around. He didn't spot any bears. "How do they blend in with the normal people?" Harry asked incredulously.

"They have their ways," Professor Lupin said darkly.

They entered the Magical Menagerie, the air inside musty and animaley. "Welcome to Magical Menagerie! How may I help you?" said a bouncy boy with shaggy brown hair and freckles by a million.

"We would like to purchase a pet," Professor Lupin said cheerfully. "What would you like, Mr Evans? A cat, toad, or owl?"

Harry looked around at the interesting and colourful creatures; preening parakeets, coiling snakes, sleek rats, cuddly kittens, majestic owls, ribbety toads…

He went to the kittens, saw them playing around, and stuck his hand in the cage, mostly wondering what would happen next. Most of the kittens jumped out of the way, but one of them, a bright orange one with sharp green eyes, snuggled into his hands, purring.

He looked up, presumably to tell Professor Lupin that he wanted the kitten, when his eyes made contact with a snowy owl.

"Can I have two?" he asked, dazed.

The owl unlocked its cage and flew to his shoulder, biting his fingers affectionately. The shaggy haired worker squeaked in indignation when the snowy owl hooted. The kitten climbed up Harry's arm and perched on his other shoulder, snuggling into his neck.

Professor Lupin burst into laughter at the sight of him. "They're a gift from me to you. Consider it a late birthday present, Mr Evans."

Harry considered it thusly.

* * *

"Professor Lupin?" Harry said shyly from behind his ice cream cone.

"Yes, Mr Evans?" she said, giving him her full, undivided attention, something no one had ever given Harry before.

He rifled through his purchases and pulled out the neatly folded female dress robes—a rather flattering shade of cerulean blue that went fetchingly with Professor Lupin's hair—and held it out for her to take.

"Thank you for making me believe in magic," he said, a lump forming in his throat.

Professor Lupin's eyes became rather watery. She took the dress robes, felt how durable and _nice_ they were, and gave Harry a cherishing smile. "Thank you for taking my word for it."

Harry took a lick of his vanilla ice cream, his new pet kitten curled up in his lap, mewling.

* * *

 **Did you enjoy this? I enjoyed writing it, so I hope the joy was transferred efficiently! :) How did you like Professor Lupin?**


	3. The Hogwarts Express

**Xenografts: a cell, tissue or organ that is transplanted from one species to a different species.**

 _ **Note: Fred and George never meet Harry, because they don't help him with his trunk. Thus, the train is unaware that the Boy-Who-Lived in on the train. Bit of a shock for them when they find out.**_

* * *

"Platform nine and three quarters!" Vernon chortled, leaving Harry at King's Cross Station to fend for himself.

Harry Fleamont Evans had absolutely no idea what he was doing, and judging by some odd woman that was screaming about some, he assumed, chocolate brand called 'muggles', he wasn't the only one flipping out. Luckily, he spotted Professor Lupin heading towards him

"Ah, Mr Evans," she said, her hair in a neat plait. "Forgive me for forgetting to inform you that the Platform was between nine and ten. You run straight through it. Please, follow me."

Harry mentally shrugged, figuring that if Heaven is Slytherin and Hell is Ravenclaw, then a platform can be reached if you run into a brick wall.

He did just that, under Professor Lupin's encouraging gaze, and he whirled into a world of utter, brilliant chaos, overseen by a belching red train.

"The Hogwarts Express," Professor Lupin said, now beside him. "The beginning and end of every wizard's most wonderful journey."

Harry smiled.

* * *

Professor Lupin helped him get his trunk, owl cage and cat carrier onto the train before waving him goodbye. "I expect to see you at the Welcoming Feast, Mr Evans."

Harry nodded. "Till then, Professor Lupin."

He found a compartment, bereft of humans, and sat himself near the window, looking out at the milling people, hugging their parents goodbye. Something in Harry ached something fierce, and he felt like crying. Professor Lupin hadn't told him much about his parents, but she'd promised to show him a photo of them when he got to Hogwarts. He couldn't wait.

When the train started chugging along, and some students finally stopped searching for a child celebrity of some description—Harry hadn't heard a name being mentioned—a lanky girl opened the door to his compartment.

"Can I sit here?" she asked awkwardly. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry nodded at the seat in front of him. "Of course."

She stowed away her trunk and smoothed her rather worn skirt as she sat down. Awkwardness consumed the compartment.

"I'm Ronnie, by the way," she said. "Ronnie Weasley."

"I'm Harry. Harry Evans."

Ronnie gaped. " _The_ Harry Evans? The Boy-Who-Lived?"

Harry placed a hand over his heart, felt it to be sufficiently beating, and concluded that he very much, as Ronnie put it, _lived_. "Yes, quite."

"Bloody hell…" she said, her blue eyes wide with shock. Then, she gulped. "I mean…"

"Ravenclaw?" Harry suggested helpfully, thinking that she'd forgotten the wizarding term for hell. The attention he got for his name was…not exactly welcome, but not exactly unpleasant either.

Ronnie shook her head. "No, no, Gryffindor."

Harry frowned, thinking he'd mistranslated the terminology. "The two are interchangeable?"

Ronnie looked at him, aghast. "Of course not!"

Harry apologised, contrite. "I only discovered their existence a month ago, you see. I'm still new to this," he explained.

Ronnie nodded sympathetically. "It's hard at first, but it gets better. You'll see; even if you've been raised by muggles, most everyone catches up soon enough."

Harry felt comforted, even if he didn't understand why Ronnie likened his guardians to chocolates. Perhaps it was a wizarding thing.

Just then, a boy with bushy hair and brown eyes like Harry's opened their compartment door.

"Have you seen a toad?" he asked in a rather off-putting tone. "A girl named Nanelle's lost one."

Ronnie and Harry shared a look before shaking their heads. "Sorry."

The boy thanked them and made to close the door, when the Trolley Lady and he collided rather painfully. "Oh dear!" said the old woman, her eyes wide. "I'm so sorry!"

Harry got up and went to help the bucktoothed boy up. "It's all right ma'am," Ronnie said, awkwardly patting the old woman's hands, unsure of what else to do. "Boys have thick skulls."

The frizzy haired boy blinked, his gaze out of focus for a moment, and Harry helped him onto a seat in the compartment. The Trolley Lady exclaimed, "Oh dear, should I get one of the prefects?"

Harry nodded, unsure whether the boy had a concussion or not.

She quickly scampered away, leaving her trolley behind, and Ronnie's stomach gurgled as she looked at the sweety goodness.

"We can buy some when she comes back," Harry said, making sure the frizzy haired boy didn't fall over.

Ronnie swallowed. "It's all right. Mum made me a sandwich. Maybe we should get him to talk or something, see if he can focus or something. Mum does that whenever Fred or George bang their hands on something."

Harry thought this was better than sitting around and feeling useless, so he turned to talk to the boy. "Hey, I'm Harry Evans, and this is Ronnie Weasley. What's your name?"

The boy mumbled and blinked. Harry and Ronnie exchanged nervous glances. But then, the boy managed to say clearly, "Herman Granger."

"How many fingers am I holding out, Granger?" Ronnie said, sticking her hand close to his face.

He blinked a few times, before saying, "You've got a ketchup stain on your palm."

Harry bit back a chuckle as Ronnie's face turned a violent shade of red, jerking her hand away from Herman's face and wiping it on her sweater.

"Twat," she muttered, looking at the boy darkly.

* * *

The Trolley Lady was back, along with a pleasant-looking boy who looked about fifteen. "Which one of you got hit by the trolley?" he asked, his voice pleasant and concerned.

Harry and Ronnie pointed at Herman, who seemed to be getting better. The prefect took out his wand and waved it in a seemingly random pattern, saying words that assumedly had a meaning, before saying reassuringly, "Don't worry. He should be fine in a minute. Just a bit dazed, that's all. But just in case, is it all right if I stay here until he's properly coherent?"

Harry and Ronnie nodded. "Sure, no problem."

The Trolley Lady took one look at Herman rubbing his head, blinking to focus his eyes, and promptly gave all four of them several sweets for free.

Ronnie was ever so pleased. "Maybe he isn't all that bad, if he gets us free chocolate frogs."

Harry nodded.

"I'm Cedric Diggory, fifth year," the prefect said pleasantly. "All three of you are first years I take it?"

Ronnie and Harry agreed. "But we don't know that one," Ronnie was quick to point out, a blush on her face as Cedric, good-looking as he was, looked at her. "He just came into our compartment, asking for a toad."

"Did he find it?" asked Cedric.

"No, he was looking for it for someone else. Nanelle, I believe he said," Harry said. "Harry Evans."

Cedric started. " _The_ Harry Evans?"

Harry nodded.

"Do you have…never mind. It's rather insensitive of me. I'm sorry about your parents."

Harry liked him. "Thanks."

Ronnie looked uncomfortable. Herman groaned. "I feel woozy."

Cedric placed a hand on his head. "Don't worry, that's completely normal. Is your vision blurry?"

Herman said, "It's getting clearer."

"I suggest not moving until it clears up completely. Any nausea?"

Herman shook his head, but instantly regretted it. "Ouch…"

The compartment door slid open again, causing Ronnie to choke on a Bertie Bott's Every-Flavoured Bean, or so the box said. Harry wondered if it really meant _every_ flavour.

"Has anyone seen—Herman!" a slightly pudgy girl with blonde hair and blue eyes exclaimed, rushing to Herman's side in worry. "Are you all right?"

Herman reassured her with a smile. "I'm fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me, that's all."

"You must be Nanelle," Harry said, trying to distract the girl who looked like she was about to cry. "Do you want…" He grabbed a sweet and read the label. "a chocolate frog?"

Nanelle sniffed, but said, "No. It's your chocolate frog, after all."

Cedric took out his wand and muttered a few more words, before sending a jet of blue light at Herman. He seemed to sit up straighter, and tilted his head side to side, sighing in relief. "I feel much better now, thanks."

Cedric smiled amicably. "Happy to help. If you have any problems, don't hesitate to ask for help, all right? The prefect compartment is at the head of the train—the first compartment, so if there's a problem…"

"We'll come find you," finished Ronnie.

"Right," he said with a smile. "I didn't catch your names, by the way."

"Ronnie Weasley."

"Herman Granger."

"N-Nanelle Longbottom."

"Nice to meet you all, and welcome to Hogwarts," he said.

"Do they teach healing charms at Hogwarts?" asked Herman rather abruptly, before Cedric could leave.

"Er, no actually. But I want to be a healer, so Madame Pomfrey tutors me a bit from time to time. She's the school nurse—a bit strict, but the best healer you can find, and she doesn't ask questions, if you get hurt because of something suspicious."

Herman nodded, although he looked rather unhappy that the school nurse didn't ask invasive questions, or that a prefect would know that she didn't.

Cedric left, and soon thereafter, Ronnie kicked Herman out of their compartment with his share of the sweets, Harry finally managing to get Nanelle to agree to take one of his chocolate frogs before she went with him.

"Finally!" Ronnie exclaimed, opening a chocolate frog. "Idiot just _had_ to get a concussion near our compartment, didn't he?"

Harry bit back another smile at Ronnie's indignant face.

"Hey, is that a kitten?" asked Ronnie, noticing the curled up kitten in Harry's cat carrier.

Harry nodded proudly. "His name's Tarquin."

"Bit pretentious," Ronnie mused.

Harry nodded quite proudly. "It suits him, believe me."

"And this owl is yours too?" Ronnie asked.

"Hedwig," Harry said, looking at his owl proudly.

"Better," Ronnie said. "So you get two amazing pets, and all I have is a hand-me-down bloody rat."

She took out a beat up rat from her pocket. "His name's Scabbers. He's useless."

She poked him, and it lay in her hands without even twitching. "Half the time, you can't even tell whether it's alive or not," she said, disgusted.

Harry had made his first friend.

* * *

"Harry Evans is on the train, Crabbe!" exclaimed Draco. "Why haven't you found him yet?"

Crabbe gawped.

Draco turned to the other muscle head. "And why were you useless, Goyle?"

Goyle made a strange noise.

Draco fumed, unamused.

"Guess the Trolley Lady really _is_ bonkers, then. Knew it. Good thing we didn't tell anyone else."

* * *

 _Next stop, Hogwarts! :) I hope you all are enjoying it thus far. What house do you think Harry will be in? What do you think of Ronnie, Herman and Nanelle?_


	4. Professor Snape

**Xenografts: a cell, tissue or organ that is transplanted from one species to a different species.**

 _ **NOTE:**_ **The first paragraph is directly taken from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, which, if you haven't been living under a rock, you know belongs to JK Rowling.**

* * *

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

Harry was, as the saying went, gobsmacked. "Why would you name houses after heaven and hell?" he hissed at Ronnie.

She gave him a weird look, but before she could say anything, perhaps explain the madness to him, the first years were being led to the Great Hall. So far, he'd met Hagrid, who was apparently the Groundskeeper and managed dangerous animals that could squash, maim and/or kill him with ease as a hobby, who had burst into tears and hugged him when he'd laid eyes on him, and Professor McGonagall, who was a severe witch that didn't look like someone to mess around with.

Harry was looking forward to that challenge.

When they walked into the Great Hall and saw the enchanted ceiling (Herman said something or other about it, but Ronnie snorted so loudly at his voice that he shut up with a glare at her), Harry couldn't yank his gaze away from the stars.

But he managed when a hat on a non-descript stool started singing a catchy song.

" _You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil; _

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind; _

_Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends."_

It explained a few things, but not why the houses were named after the afterlife.

Professor McGonagall informed them that they had to come up when she read their names and try on the hat to be sorted. Ronnie muttered something about her brother (she had _five_ of them!) and then the names started being called out.

"Abbott, Hugh."

"Hufflepuff!"

Names went on, and people got sorted, and house tables cheered.

"Evans, Harry."

Dead quiet in the hall. Harry walked up, almost nonchalantly, and tried on the hat.

" _Ah, what a ready mind. Clever, and with a thirst to prove yourself…you would do well in Slytherin."_

" _Thanks,"_ Harry mentally replied. _"But the concept of being_ sorted _into heaven is a tad bit weird to me."_

" _What?"_

" _You know,"_ Harry mentally explained. _"Wizard Hell is Ravenclaw, Wizard Heaven is Slytherin, Wizard Purgatory is Gryffindor. I suppose Wizard Limbo is Hufflepuff, but for some reason, no one talks about Hufflepuff."_

" _Oh dear Merlin. Another one of the Potter lunatics."_

" _A what lunatic?"_

" _Merlin, you're actually a Potter as well, not just_ like _one. I don't know if I should send you to Gryffindor or—"_

" _Purgatory?! For what?"_

" _You know what? I think, for the sake of Minerva's sanity,"_ then the hat said aloud, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The cheers from the Hufflepuff table were the loudest of the evening.

* * *

"You didn't _seem_ like a Hufflepuff," said Ronnie at breakfast. "But hey, things happen."

Ronnie had been sorted into Hufflepuff as well.

"You wanted to be a Gryffindor though," Harry pointed out, smearing apricot jam on his toast, Tarquin curled up in his lap.

Ronnie smirked. "This way, though, I stand out. No one in my family's been in Hufflepuff, and Ginny's _definitely_ going to be in Gryffindor—she's my little sister. Plus, we get to be in the same house, which is brilliant. Pass the bacon."

"So, what? You just _asked_ the Sorting Hat to put you in Hufflepuff?"

"Pretty much," Ronnie said. "It was bloody terrifying, but…I don't know…you looked so alone on the Hufflepuff table, and…look, you're my best friend. Some things are more important than family loyalties."

With a decisive nod, Ronnie took a really large bite out of her triple-layered bacon and cheese sandwich. Harry felt deeply touched, and a lump formed in his throat.

"Whadawe hae fist?" she asked Harry.

They'd been to most of their classes by this point; only Potions and History of Magic left to go. "Potions," Harry said, taking a bite out of his jammed toast.

"Es go," Ronnie said, stuffing the rest of her sandwich into her mouth and chewing quickly. "Heard that Snape's nasty."

Harry had suspicions that Snape was a bear in disguise—his scar had prickled when he'd looked at him, and if that wasn't a sign that the oily Professor was a bear, Harry didn't know what was.

Herman and Nanelle, both of whom had been sorted into Gryffindor, got up and exited the Great Hall, Herman throwing Ronnie's ketchup covered face a look of disgust.

"Whas his problem?" she asked angrily, rubbing her mouth with the back of her hand furiously. "Just cause he's a vegan or something equally as twatty—"

"Let's just go," Harry said. "Granger's just jealous he can't eat a pound of bacon in thirty seconds."

Ronnie looked pleased with this, and the two headed to their first Potions lesson with the Ravenclaws.

* * *

They sat next to each other, right across from Ernie Macmillan and Hugh Abbott. They greeted each other, and then in swooped a man that shared a large resemblance with a bat.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving in this class," he said silkily. "I can teach you to bottle fame and brew glory…stopper death…"

Harry wondered whether one had to be poetic to do well in Potions.

Professor Snape, greasy hair and hook-nosed, took the register after his little spiel. When he got to Harry's name, he stopped. "Harry Evans…our new _celebrity_."

Ronnie growled under her breath. Harry nodded. "That's right Professor."

Snape sneered. "Evans! What would I get if I added powdered asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Something magical, I'm sure," Harry replied.

A few students giggled, but most of them stared at Harry's gall in horror. Snape scowled. "Ten points from Hufflepuff for cheek, Evans. Let's see if you can answer another one, or if your inflated head only has room for your ego. What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry had absolutely no idea, but Snape seemed expectant, and Harry had decided that sass was the way to go. "Pull the other one, sir."

Some students gasped. "Another ten points from Hufflepuff," Snape hissed through gritted teeth. "Clearly, you're completely incompetent."

"Some would say, sir, that a bad workman blames his tools," said Harry.

"And others," Snape snapped, "would say detention Saturday evening at seven in my office, Mr Evans."

"Of course they would, sir," Harry said. "They enjoy bullying those they're meant to be helping."

Ronnie sucked in a breath.

"Make that two detentions, Evans."

Harry chose to give the Potions Professor an unrepentant grin. "If you insist, sir."

* * *

"How are you not a Gryffindor!?" Ronnie exclaimed on their way to History of Magic. "It takes a special kind of bravery to talk back to Snape!"

"Yeah," Herman Granger said from behind them. "The stupid kind."

News had travelled very fast, and now Harry was looked at with more awe than before. He decided that he liked this bout of staring far better than the first one.

"Who asked you, Granger?" Ronnie snapped, whipping her head back to glare at him, her shoulder-length red hair falling into her eyes.

Herman sniffed indignantly. "I'm entitled to my opinions, Weasley."

"And I'm entitled to shove my fist up your—"

"Inside, if you will, Miss Weasley, Mr Granger," said Professor Lupin's voice from behind them. Harry happily noted that she was wearing the cerulean robes he'd bought her.

Both students blushed and hurriedly went into the History of Magic classroom, Harry giving Professor Lupin a smile, which was returned.

"Welcome to History of Magic," began Professor Lupin. "which, I've been told, is the most tedious subject at Hogwarts. You'll forgive me for making it interesting."

Some students smiled, Harry among them. "I'm Professor Remula Lupin, and my subject doesn't really need an introduction. Instead, it requires a backstory. The next five years will be my attempt at condensing more than four thousand years of magical history, just in time for your OWL's. They're a ways off, but it's nice to keep things in perspective when you undertake a task, I've found."

Even Ronnie was fully engaged.

"If you'll all put away your books," began Professor Lupin, to the joy of many students, "I'll tell you a story about a boy named Merlin…"

History of Magic quickly became Harry's favourite subject.

* * *

 _What did you think of this chapter? Please let me know?_


	5. Quidditch

**Xenografts: a cell, tissue or organ transplanted from one species to a different species.**

 _ **NOTE: Padam and Parvat are not typos.**_

* * *

Flying lessons with the Ravenclaws went spectacularly well, largely because Harry was in love with flying. But we're getting ahead of ourselves.

They had flying lessons with the Ravenclaws and Harry had discovered that Padam Patil was one half of a pair of twins. Intrigued, he wondered whether there was a special reason that his identical brother, Parvat, had ended up in Gryffindor.

He thought to ask, but Ronnie was too busy muttering curses at Ernie Macmillan to indulge Harry's eccentricities. "Why does that pillock have to butt in everywhere? I swear, he's so..."

"And really Weasley, you would do well to braid your hair. Flyaway isn't as cool as most people seem to think," said Ernie, as though he was imparting great wisdom and expected to be praised. "And you don't want to end up all alone without a respectable husband, surely."

Harry took one look at Ronnie's fisted hands and mentally debated the merits of letting her throw that punch at Ernie's face. Deciding with a mental sigh that he didn't want Ronnie to get a detention, he said, "Macmillan, is it true that you know how to build sandcastles? I confess, I've never managed it."

Ernie, jarred by this abrupt topic change, opened his mouth to say something indubitably asinine. Harry, on the other hand, held a hand up. "You don't need to be _that_ offended Ernie. Not everyone can build sandcastles as well as you."

Ronnie started snickering at Ernie's rapidly reddening face when Hugh Abbott, his best friend, started giggling at his expense.

Harry shook his head despondently. "I understand Macmillan; I didn't know you were so against people who can't build sandcastles. I won't bother you ever again. Come on Ronnie; we'll only upset him if we stick around."

He had to pull Ronnie away from Ernie's sputtering with all his strength because she was too busy laughing her head off to stand up straight.

"Harry, you're bloody mental!" she said in awe, and Harry admitted to being extremely pleased with this character assessment.

Madame Hooch, with her squirrel nose and un-Ernie-approved flyaway hair, blew her whistle and Ronnie let out a few more snickers before sobbering up.

"Place a hand over your brooms..."

Harry calmly, bemusedly, said, "Up."

The broom flung into his outstretched arm, as though it were an overeager puppy wanting to be petted. Harry liked brooms.

Ronnie had managed on her first try as well, looking quite smug about it and throwing shade at Ernie, who had previously been consoling her condescendingly ("It's all right if you don't manage this lesson Weasley; girls aren't predisposed to flying. Nothing to be ashamed of!") The boy himself seemed to be struggling with his unruly piece of wooden equipment.

Ronnie turned around to talk to Harry till everyone else managed when she noticed that Harry was acting abnormally again.

"Harry," she said carefully, "stop petting your broom."

Harry nodded. "You're right - she must be getting tired of it."

He then started scratching the handle affectionately, as though the old Comet was Tarquin.

What Ronnie found unsettling though was that the broom seemed to be _enjoying_ Harry's ministrations. It was bucking under Harry's hands, and by now, everyone was staring at this oddity.

"Mr Evans!" said Madame Hooch, horrified. "Such inappropriate actions - _fondling_ in public - Professor Sprout will hear of this!"

Ronnie watched Harry flush in embarrassment and hide his hands behind his back. "Macmillan told me to."

Ernie was too busy spluttering to coherently deny that he'd told Harry any such thing.

When Madame Hooch had dragged Ernie to Professor Sprout's office, Ronnie turned to Harry.

"You're a liar."

"A pathological one," Harry admitted. "Or so the Dursleys said. But I felt that it is a necessary evil."

Ronnie raised her eyebrows at him. "What'd he do to you?"

Harry blinked. "He insulted you."

Ronnie was glad she'd made such an amazing friend.

Even if he was a few screws loose.

* * *

After the Flying Lesson, Professor Sprout, was subjected to a two hour rant about the brilliance of genetics.

"Evans is a natural on that broom Pomponius! I mean, Merlin, that kid could make even _your_ team look good!"

Pomponius Sprout hadn't a competitive bone in his dirt-smeared body, but that didn't mean it didn't sting when Minerva, Severus and Fulvia had bets on Quidditch match outcomes and never included him. Ever.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, it was true, but men had no compunctions of the breaking-rules variety.

Harry Evans was thus called to try out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team.

* * *

"First year!?" Ronnie exclaimed. "Beat me with a bludger and hang the Horntail, are you serious?"

Harry wondered whether Ronnie's exclamations were entirely normal, but then realised that he couldn't exactly judge. "Yes, although no Horntails need to be maimed."

Ronnie grinned. "This is amazing Harry! If you get on the team, you'll—sorry, I just, I can't—"

Harry left Ronnie to her fangirling and went back to his three-foot long essay on the Levitation charm for Flitwick's lesson, wondering how the Halloween Feast would go. Professor Lupin had offered to let him stay in her office with her if he wasn't feeling up to it, but he said he was fine to go, even though he felt a tad bit guilty for not feeling guilty about having fun on the day his parents died.

Speaking of, Professor Lupin had finally gotten around to showing him a picture of his parents at their wedding, and he'd asked Professor Lupin the obvious question, given the circumstances, as non-creeped out as possible. "Why do you have a picture of my parents at their wedding?"

She'd looked sad, and then said, "I was invited, for one."

She never said what the 'two' was, and Harry hadn't the heart to pry. Instead, he'd stared at his parents, noting the similarities between them and him—he really did have his mother's eyes, doe brown and sparkling. He also had his father's smile and jawline, the shape of his eyes and his cheekbones. From his mother, he got the messy black hair and poor eyesight as well.

It was the first time he'd ever seen a picture of his parents, and he was ashamed to say that he'd actually started crying, and Professor Lupin had hugged him till he stopped.

"It's all right," she'd said, her voice thick with emotions. "Jamie would've said something along the lines of 'crying doesn't make you weak, just precious', if you get what I mean."

And he did. Most people would think it was an insult, but Harry shared his mother's nuttiness—precious was something to be treasured, and so it didn't matter what anyone else said, because everything had triple meanings, and so did tears.

* * *

He tried out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team, and also found out that Jeanne Kenyon was the team's seeker. Or, rather, _was_ the team's seeker.

"—and so, we've decided that you'll be playing seeker, Harry," said Kenyon with a wincing smile. "I'm no good at this anyway; you are literally flying circles around me."

Maxine O'Flaherty, one of the beaters, gave Harry a thumbs up. "With you on the team, we actually have a _chance_ at the cup!"

Harry realised, quite all of a sudden, that his team very likely sucked at Quidditch.

In the intervening weeks, he realised that he was completely, utterly right.

It was the first time he wished he belonged to Gryffindor.

Oliver Wood seemed like he knew what he was doing.

* * *

 _And yet another chapter! I hope that was enjoyable. And may I just say how wonderful it was to see Xenografts getting even four reviews? By Merlin, I have never been this happy! :) Thank you for your support. It means the world to me!_


	6. The Halloween Troll

**Xenografts: a cell, tissue or organ transplanted from one species to a different species.**

 _ **NOTE: Harry and Draco don't have all that much contact, owing to the fact that Draco sees Harry as a harmless Hufflepuff, and the previous Gryff-Slyth rivalry doesn't exist anymore. In addition, Weasley's a girl, and only sissies take insults from girls seriously, or so Draco believes.**_

* * *

"Troll! In the Dungeon!" screeched Professor Quirrell, his purple turban making his head look even more lopsided than usual today, before fainting.

Ronnie dropped her chicken leg in shock while Harry looked on curiously. Were trolls bad?

Judging by the ensuing screaming, they were.

"All prefects, take your houses to their dormitories immediately, in a calm and orderly fashion," came Professor Dumbledore's calming voice. Harry liked that one—something about his beard was very endearing. "Teachers, follow me."

Ronnie and Harry followed their house to their common room, when they stopped. Both of them looked at each other at the same time.

"Harry, no," said Ronnie firmly.

"Ronnie, yes," said Harry, equally as firm.

They stared at each other for all of five seconds before Ronnie gave in. "Fine! But if we get killed, I blame you."

"Duly noted."

And off they went in search of trolls.

* * *

" _How_ were you not sorted into Gryffindor?" Ronnie muttered as they crept along the candlelit corridors. "The hat must've gone barmy, because you're definitely not Hufflepuffish."

"I'm redefining our house," said Harry, adrenaline pumping through him. "The least you can do is support my heartfelt endeavour."

"You're trying to make like what we're doing is okay Harry," said Ronnie, giving him an irritated look, not the least bit frightened that they were skulking sinister passageways, looking for a troll for the sheer recklessness of it. "It bloody well isn't okay."

But she didn't go back, and she didn't seem all that reluctant to go forward either, so Harry just put it down to Ronnie feeling obligated to be the voice of reason, which, really, she should stop trying to be—even _she_ wasn't convinced by herself.

They'd explored the castle a few times, so they had a vague idea as to where the dungeons were. What they didn't expect was to see Herman Granger and Nanelle Longbottom running around, haggard.

"What're you two doing here?" Ronnie asked indignantly, crossing her arms in the way she only did when Herman was around.

"I could be asking the same question," Herman bit out.

"So could I," said another voice from behind Harry, which turned out to be Draco Malfoy, the sodding tosser that Ronnie couldn't stand, not that that was anything new.

"I've lost Trevor," said Nanelle, trembling.

"I've lost my sanity," said Harry, commiserating with her.

Draco looked at Harry strangely.

" _I've_ lost my bloody patience," Ronnie muttered.

Herman shushed her by placing a hand on her mouth, motioning for everyone to keep quiet. They heard heavy _thunks_ coming their way, and Nanelle whimpered, clutching Harry's robes in a death grip.

They scrambled to the left, running into another corridor, but the troll must have heard them, no matter how dumb Ronnie said it was, and charged at them with a yell.

Draco froze, and may or may not have wet his trousers. Nanelle whimpered, and may or may not have started preparing her eulogy. Ronnie cursed, Herman took a step backwards in fright, and Harry charged the twelve foot tall boulder-headed troll right back, matching it yell for yell.

"Are you insane, Harry!?" screamed Ronnie, taking out her wand as Harry wrapped his arms tightly around the troll's neck.

"Spells…spells…" muttered Herman frantically, frizzy hair frizzing even more.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ronnie snapped.

Herman glared at her. "I'm _thinking_!"

"Think faster, then!"

Harry was starting to see stars. The troll yelled louder. "We're all going to die!" yelled Draco hysterically.

"Er, _Flipendo!_ " yelled Herman, which managed to make the troll pause in its attempts to dislocate Harry, but not to actually push the thing backwards.

Ronnie yelled a spell that she'd heard her brothers use, hoping she got the wand movements right. " _Incarcerous!"_

It didn't work, but the troll was now focusing its attentions on the four other children. It lumbered towards them.

Herman yelled _flipendo_ again, not knowing all that many spells, what with him being a first year and everything, only two months into his education.

Nanelle screamed, _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ and Harry had to grip the troll tighter because Nanelle had missed the troll and had hit him with the spell.

Sounds of several footsteps could be heard, as Draco yelled, _"Incarcerous!"_ using the wand movements he remembered, and managed to subdue the troll enough that Ronnie and Herman could both cast a _wingardium leviosa_ on the troll and made it float to the ceiling, making it lose its shit.

Nanelle carefully levitated Harry off of the troll, and both Ronnie and Herman simultaneously cancelled their spells as the Professors reached them, slamming the troll onto the floor with a large _wham!_

"Did we kill it?" asked Harry, breathless. Nanelle had tears streaming down her cheeks, Ronnie and Herman were panting, and Draco fell onto the floor on his knees.

Professor McGonagall went to the troll and examined it. "I do believe you may have, Messrs Evans, Malfoy, Granger, Miss Weasley and Miss Longbottom."

All five of them looked half horrified and half relieved.

All their houses lost a collective forty points apiece.

A friendship, on the other hand, was forged.

* * *

"For the last time, Malfoy!" screamed Ronnie. "The Chudley Cannons are the best team in the history of Quidditch, and that's that!"

Malfoy snorted in disdain. "The Chudley Cannons wouldn't know talent if it smacked them in the face with a bludger!"

Harry and Herman exchanged homework tips and Nanelle was panicking about the upcoming test.

Professor Lupin was glad for the company, even if it was difficult to concentrate on marking with the five unlikely friends sitting in her office as if it was their common room.

It reminded her of better days, when two of her friends weren't dead and the third wasn't in Azkaban for murder.

* * *

Deep in the bowels of Azkaban, Sirius Black shivered and snuggled further into his blanket.

He hadn't known warmth in a long time.

Some days, he thought that the cold had set so permanently in his bones that he'd never really known what warmth was, just like Jamie might've been a figment of his imagination and he'd never really left Grimmauld Place.

The memories of the only years of his life where he was happy were fading.

His life was just a transfer from one prison to another…Sirius shivered as the Dementors arrived.

* * *

 _And here we see the characters coming together. I hope the Halloween Feast this year was done with the appropriate level of aplomb! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I sincerely hope to hear from you all. :)_


	7. Rubeus Hagrid

**Xenografts: a cell, tissue or organ transplanted from one species to a different species.**

 _ **NOTE: I know how to spell Hagrid.**_

* * *

"Apparently, the Keeper of Keys has invited me to tea," said Harry one fine morning, feeding Hedwig a bit of his bacon as she preened.

Ronnie, her mouth stuffed full of the greasy goodness, gave him a confused look. "Wha' you on abou'?"

Harry handed over the letter he'd received from the tall bloke they'd seen near the Greenhouses sometimes. Halfway through reading the messy scrawl, Herman and Nanelle came over to their table, most of the other students having left.

"We'll be late for class if you idiots don't hurry up," huffed Herman, being as snooty as ever, around four books in his thin arms.

Ronnie gave him a glare, swallowed noisily and wiped the grease off her lips and onto her skirt. "Who asked you to wait for us? We have charms you bloody nitwit! With _Slytherin_."

Herman sniffed disapprovingly. "You have no manners."

"Your face has no manners!" said Ronnie, blushing.

Herman brushed his bushy hair out of his eyes; Harry thought he should either get a haircut or grow it out – the in between phase was the worst, he knew from experience.

That had been quite a trying year; Aunt Petunia still had nightmares about his...gender experimentation.

"That doesn't even make any sense!" said Herman, his face colouring.

Draco came to the Hufflepuff table at this point in time, having worked quite hard to shoo Crabbe and Goyle to their lesson without him. "Why do I even know you people?"

Harry gave him a flashy smile. "For the banter."

Draco snorted. "Well, if you and your ginger can finish stuffing your faces, we can all get to class."

Ronnie didn't approve of this form of address and shoved Draco. "I'll suck your soul out if you don't shut it, albino."

Harry was pleased to note that Draco only looked mildly offended. "Off to Charms then. Nanelle, you get a point."

Ronnie muttered a few choice curses, Draco looked resigned and Herman spluttered. "Why? I didn't even do anything mildly offensive this morning!"

Harry hummed in agreement. "You're getting better, but Nanelle will always have you beat."

Nanelle blushed, not quite understanding why Harry felt the need to embarrass her like this; positive reinforcement was not something she was used to.

Ronnie gave Harry a sideways glance and muttered, "Yeah, she will, cause she's a bloody mute, int she?"

Harry matched Ronnie's eyes with an obtuse frown. "I don't know _what_ you mean by that Ronena Weasley, but I'm sure it wasn't anything negative, right?"

Nanelle wished the ground would swallow her up.

"My name isn't _bloody_ Ronena! Who told you that? Fred and George right? I'll kill them!" Ronnie screeched.

"Lesson time! Honestly, all of you are so irresponsi—" Herman began, but by the time he properly got into lecture mode, his fellow students were already halfway out of the Great Hall. "Hey, wait for me!"

* * *

Every month, and it was quite regular, Professor Lupin would be replaced by a ghost named Cuthbert Binns, who made everyone appreciate Professor Lupin even more than they already did.

Herman wanted to figure out why, but when he brought it up, Harry gave him a _look_ , and he backed down.

Draco snickered. Nanelle gently chided him.

Ronnie muttered, "Whipped."

Herman studiously ignored them, loudly reciting random facts from his tree-trunk thick book, for 'light reading'. "Did you know that Nicolas Flammel is celebrating his six hundred and sixty fifth birthday?"

Draco gave him a blank stare. "And we care because?"

"D-Draco..." Nanelle said, trying to look disapproving but only pulling off hurt-bunny.

* * *

"So yer Harry! I rememb'r when ye was small enough ta fit in m'hand! Yeh've grown!" exclaimed Hagrid as he let the four of them in. (Draco had refused the invitation on principle.)

"You knew me as a child, Keeper of Keys?" asked Harry, steering well clear of the bloodhound in the corner.

Ronnie, on the other hand, was fascinated. "Why did I have to get a rat anyway? Why couldn't it be something awesome, like a dog?" she whispered moodily.

The dog bound over to Harry and started licking his face, leaving it a slobbering mess when Hagrid finally pulled him away.

"This 'ere's Fang. Don' worry; e's 'armless, aren' ya boy?"

Harry decided to take his word for it; dogs and him didn't have the best relationship, owing to the fact that, before Hogwarts, he'd been primarily exposed to them via Aunt Marge, and after Hogwarts, he was always covered in cat fur.

Tarquin seemed to have an odd fondness for Harry's wardrobe.

Nanelle stammered a greeting. Herman eyed his hut in consternation. "Is this place even sanitary?"

Ronnie threw him an annoyed look. "Why in Merlin's name does that _matter?_ "

Herman gave her a very disapproving look. Ronnie looked entirely unmoved.

Nanelle whimpered and the both of them apologised.

Harry placed a hand on Nanelle's shoulder and smiled at her. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around!"

Nanelle felt distinctly useful.

* * *

"The Half Giant didn't eat you I see," Draco drawled, giving them a once over. "Pity."

Goyle and Crabbe gaped gormlessly.

Harry gave them both a polite nod. They gave no visible indication that they'd registered it.

Ronnie clenched her fists while Herman fumed silently. Harry gave Nanelle a very pleased smile, and the pudgy girl blushed and shyly smiled back.

Draco raised an eyebrow imperiously. "What's wrong with them Evans?"

Harry raised his hand for a high-five. Draco, not understanding the gesture, gave him an unamused stare.

Harry put his hand back down sadly; maybe next time then.

Tarquin weaved his way around their legs in a rather fashionable manner and purred, getting Harry's attention momentarily.

He gave all of them a happy nod and said, "Tarquin's found the kitchen. On a completely unrelated note, guess what we're doing tonight?"

Herman wanted to yell about the sheer recklessness of the idea. Ronnie wanted to yell, period.

"What's _wrong_ with them Nanelle?" asked Draco in frustration; Harry'd started petting his needy cat, and who knew how long _that_ would last this time.

Nanelle stuttered something incoherent. Draco wanted to smash something.

Harry looked up from his luxuriously boneless cat and said, "They had some of Hagrid's rock cakes. 'Twas fabulous. Should've been there Draco. Never would've thought we could have a moments peace with the both of them in the same room, but they managed for half an hour."

Draco looked at Herman and Ronnie derisively. "Are you stupid? The oaf could've poisoned it!"

Crabbe had finally realised that Harry had greeted them nearly six minutes ago. He nodded back.

Harry gave Draco a nonchalant look. "I'd thank you not to call him an oaf. A terrible cook, certainly, but he's rather intelligent in his own way. For example, did you know that he raised a three-headed dog from infancy?"

Draco stared, wide-eyed. "How did he not _die?"_

Harry looked rather pleased as he said, "Turns out, all that he needed to do was play a bit of music. But that is entirely irrelevant, and it's very likely that it's just a piece of trivia that no one cares about. Oh, hello Professor Quirrell. What are you doing skulking around over there for?"

* * *

It was nearing Christmas when Hagrid lost his hut in a blazing fire caused by a baby dragon.

He insisted Norbert was innocent, Harry felt compelled to vouch for him, and thus, Harry was thrust forward into the sleazy world of politics and sensationalism.

* * *

"Mr Evans, Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet. How do you do?" said a stylish blonde woman, sucking at the end of a quill with a wide and faintly predatory smile on her face.

"I do quite well, but the real question is, what is the true purpose of Moonshine's odd fascination with hags?" asked Harry contemplatively.

Rita blinked. Then blinked again. "...right. Mr Evans, is it true that you are going to testify _for_ the Groundsweeper, Ruby Hargid?"

It was Harry's turn to blink. Next to him, Ronnie had a flushed face and Herman was trying his level best not to melt under the pressure. Nanelle had long since hidden herself in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Draco was too busy smiling and posing for the cameraman to be of any use. "Certainly not. Hogwarts doesn't have a Groundsweeper. Or anyone named Ruby Hargid. Do you _do_ any research before asking questions, or is it just because it's a Monday morning?" he asked curiously.

Tarquin, who was sitting on his lap and hissing at the camera, turned to look at Rita curiously as well.

Her smile became rather fixed, but she still managed to say, "Of course, silly me. Perhaps you can tell us more about yourself Harry? Everyone in the wizarding world is dying to hear more about the Boy-Who-Lived!"

Harry gave her an even gaze. "Rubeus Hagrid is the Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I'll be talking about him, thank you very much."

"Your bloody quill'd better be taking that down word for word, or I'll smack your pretty little face in!" threatened Ronnie, eyes narrowing at the floating parchment in front of her.

Draco gave the quill a lazy look and then turned to look at Rita with a casual smile he'd practised in the mirror. "I'm pretty sure that Quick Quotes Quills are illegal Ms Skeeter, but I _am_ just a first year..."

Herman couldn't do anything of significance, and he wished he hadn't thought to accompany Harry to his interview. Professor Sprout looked pleased as punch that Harry was going to be in the news and was humming to himself happily in the background, ostensibly supervising the goings on.

Rita Skeeter grit her teeth in annoyance.

Bloody celebrities...

* * *

His face was on the front page of the Daily Prophet, a feminine-looking scrawny eleven year old with a pleasant smile, claiming that Hagrid was sold that baby dragon egg by Lord –bleep!— The general public was suitably impressed.

Minister Fudge was so impressed that he even went to prison in sheer panic, to remind himself that Lord Bleep was _dead_ , and his followers, especially his evil right hand, Sirius Black, were still very much suitably restrained.

"Are you done with that paper, Minister?" asked a sunken-faced Black, a ghost of a smile on his once-handsome face. "Only, I'm terribly bored, you see. Miss doing the crossword."

Fudge, forgetting that the front page had the very news that might make a Death Eater want to break out of Azkaban, handed it over, glad to be rid of it.

Sirius Orion Black took one look at the boy, who looked so much like Jamielle Evans nee Potter, that he turned into a dog and slipped through the bars.

He'd done his time—ten years of it.

* * *

 _Well, I hope you enjoyed that! Seeing as I have no way of knowing if anyone's actually reading this, it'd be much appreciated if I could get at least a slight heads up on that - anything really, to tell me that I should continue publishing the chapters. :)_


	8. Tarquin's Triumph

**Xenografts: a cell, tissue or organ transplanted from one species to a different species.**

* * *

The news came in a week before Christmas that Sirius Black had escaped.

The news had been completely overshadowed by the fact that, according to the Weasley Twins, Fred and George—funny chaps. Harry liked them—Ronnie had been sleeping in the same bed as a bloke named Peter.

"How would you even know this?" asked Ronnie, her arms crossed. "You can't get into the Hufflepuff common room."

"Oh darling sister of ours," said Fred.

"We have our ways," said George.

Harry decided to intervene before Ronnie blew up. "There's no one in first year named Peter."

Draco nodded, being, as he was, an expert on these kinds of things. "What did you say his last name was?"

"Pettigrew."

"I've heard that name before…" said Herman, frowning.

"Look," snapped Ron irritably. "I don't know anyone named Peter Pettigrew, all right? The only other living creature on my bed is Scabbers, and he doesn't look like a bloody Peter Pettigrew, so if you'd kindly shove your accusations down your—"

Nanelle squeaked in embarrassment and Ronnie decided to cut herself off there.

Fred and George exchanged a glance.

"The map never lies," Fred muttered to himself.

Harry would have asked what the map was, and why it spoke to begin with, but he got distracted by Tarquin, who was holding Scabbers by his neck.

"Um…Ronnie?" Harry said carefully. "You know how Tarquin has never _ever_ made a move on Scabbers?"

"Yeah?" she said, too busy counting to ten to look Harry's way.

"Keep in mind that Tarquin is a pretentious little fluffball," he continued slowly.

Nanelle gasped and the twins stared at Harry's pet kitten with wide eyes. Herman moaned and Draco snorted in disbelief. Ronnie finally looked up as Professor Lupin came into her office. "What's your point, Harry?"

Her gaze landed on Tarquin, who looked pleased as punch and laid down the dead rat at Harry's feet proudly, purring.

Her blue eyes welled up, and she slowly picked Scabbers up and held him in her hands gently. "I don't want to see your face for a while, Harry," she said, her voice husky.

Harry nodded and left, picking up Tarquin by the scruff of his neck, much to his indignation.

"What's happened?" Professor Lupin asked as Harry shut the door behind him, going to the Owlery to see Hedwig.

Tarquin meowed in irritation and scratched Harry's hand. Harry put him down, and the kitten skulked away huffily. "It's not nice, you know!" he screamed after Tarquin. "Killing someone's pet without warning is cruel!"

Tarquin sashayed away, completely unrepentant.

* * *

Sirius Orion Black hid in the Forbidden Forest as Hagrid lugged the last of the Christmas trees into the castle.

"Ah," he said out loud, just to hear the sound of his own scratchy voice. "So it's Christmas time."

" _Meow."_

Tarquin lightly plodded to Sirius and snuggled next to him, providing the cold, cold man with some warmth.

He wondered how his godson was doing. Jamie's son…


	9. The Christmas Pendant

**Xenografts: a cell, tissue or organ that is transplanted from one species into a different species.**

 _ **NOTE: Two more chapters to go everyone!**_

* * *

"Wait a minute," Ronnie exclaimed, horrified. "So you're telling me that this Sirius Black guy killed twelve muggles, and a _guy named Peter Pettigrew_?!"

Herman nodded, sliding his hands through sheaves of old newspapers. "It says so right here, in the Daily Prophet issue of November the second, 1981."

"B-but that's the name of the bloke Fred and George said I was sleeping with!" Ronnie said, her face going frighteningly pale.

" _Shh!"_ hissed Madame Pince.

Ronnie Weasley was not made for the library.

* * *

"Try not to blow anything up," instructed Herman, lugging his trolley behind him, Nanelle's bag slung over his shoulder, much to the pudgy girl's protests. "I like Hogwarts."

Harry gave her a mock-horrified look. "You wound me Herman! I would never!"

Herman gave him a disapproving sniff. "Of course you would. It's written all over your face."

"I'll keep him in line," said Ronnie, scowling at the wind.

Harry started; he hadn't seen neither hide nor hair of his best friend, which was considerably surprising seeing as they shared all their lessons _and_ the common room, not to mention the table in the Great Hall.

Maybe Harry was unobservant. Maybe Harry needed to get an eye check-up.

He musingly turned to Draco. "Do they have opticians in the Wizarding World?"

Ronnie huffed. "Don't ignore me."

Harry started again, having forgotten altogether that she was there - his brain needed a check-up too, it would seem.

Draco snorted. "Sort yourselves out before we get back, both of you."

Nanelle watched Harry and Ronnie warily as they sized each other up.

Harry sighed. "What would you like in recompense?"

Ronnie looked at Herman, confused. Herman quickly said, "To make up for Tarquin's...actions."

Draco spotted Crabbe and Goyle skulking in the shadows.

Ronnie blinked a few times before bowing her head, shadowing her eyes. "There's one thing..."

"Name it," Harry replied instantly.

Ronnie gave him a determined look. "Make Tarquin apologise for Scabbers."

"So this is the end of a brilliant friendship, Miss Weasley," he said instantly, bowing at the waist and turning to walk away.

Nanelle grabbed his collar, yanking him back.

All four of her friends stared at the usually cripplingly shy girl in shock.

She stared with forced determination at Harry and said, "Tarquin's in the wrong, and you're not being a very good owner if you don't teach him right from wrong."

Harry gulped. "But Tarquin is..."

Ronnie squared her shoulders. "I thought you were redefining the Hufflepuff house."

Harry blinked. "I was joking."

"But you probably should," drawled Draco. "Merlin knows how stupid a reputation that house has, and if I'm to be seen in your company, you'd better bring it up to snuff, tout suite."

Harry bit his lower lip before sighing. "All right. Peeves, tell Tarquin that I require his presence."

Peeves, who had been busy dismantling a suit of armour, snapped up in attention. "Yes sir, Master Evans!"

Off he flew, to the disbelieving looks of all students present.

Harry shrugged at the attention.

A few moments later, Tarquin came trotting, tail languidly sweeping just above the floor, mewling plaintively. Harry looked at the ginger kitten straight in the eye, Tarquin's catty green dilating at the command in his sturdy hazel.

"Tarquin," Harry said, "I know you don't want to, and I know you _meant_ to, but you hurt Ronnie's feelings, and by proxy hurt mine. Ronnie's been sad for ages. What do you do?"

Tarquin gave a chastised mewl and then softly padded to Ronnie. The freckled girl looked at Tarquin with old anger, but when the Magical Munchkin kitten sat back on his hind legs and dilated his pupils, gazing at her sorrowfully and mewling, Ronnie couldn't help but forgive him.

"Fine, you manipulative bastard," Ronnie said, ignoring Herman's outraged yelp at her cussing. "You're forgiven."

"Tis the season of miracles," said Draco before taking one of Nanelle's hands. "Now, _I'm_ getting on that train. Mother's promised me lots of presents."

Harry ignored his deflating heart and waved them off cheerily.

"Merry Christmas!"

Draco roared in outrage. "It's _Yuletide_ , you uncultured swine!"

* * *

"Presents!" screamed Ronnie as she burst into Harry's dormitory. "Come on Harry! Haul your butt out of bed and bring your presents to Lupin's office!"

Harry rolled out of bed and did just that, absentmindedly wondering whether killing Ronnie would be an acceptable Christmas present for everyone.

He rethought his decision—Herman might object purely on moral grounds.

Halfway through opening his presents in Lupin's office, with Professor Lupin sitting there with them and indulging in hot cocoa, Harry froze.

"Harry?" asked Ronnie, waving her hand in front of his face.

Professor Lupin scrunched up her eyebrows. "What is it, Harry?"

Harry said, "Oh, nothing, I just realised…this is the first time I've ever gotten Christmas presents, that's all. Or that I've enjoyed Christmas. Or that people have liked me enough to want me to enjoy their Christmas with them."

A bout of silence, and then Ronnie gave Harry an awkward hug before Professor Lupin pulled him into a deep one.

Tarquin sashayed into the room, looking pleased as punch, and Hedwig flew in through the open window. Both of them were carrying dead animals, and both of them plopped them in front of Harry. Hedwig, considerately, had also bought a package from an unknown sender.

It was a silver pendant with a ruby-encrusted crescent moon, definitely designed for males—and rich ones at that—with no name or return address.

"Where did you get this, girl?" asked Harry, admiring it. He scratched her neck affectionately, to the pleased hoots of his currently favourite pet.

Professor Lupin looked at the pendant before snatching it out of Harry's hands.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, astonished.

"Do you mind if I test this for anything malicious, Harry? Only, I'm not comfortable with you wearing anything around your neck from an unknown sender," she explained, eyes glittering with sincerity and deeply buried anger.

Harry nodded in understanding, and Ronnie grinned. "Looks like you have yet _another_ secret admirer! Open this one, Harry! All it has is a note with no name."

Harry read it aloud for everyone's benefit.

 _Your mother left this in my possession before she died. It is time I return it to you._

Something shimmery and liquidy slid out of the gift wrap, and once Harry threw it over himself, Ronnie gasped and Professor Lupin started crying.

"That's an invisibility cloak!" Ronnie exclaimed. "Now you don't have to worry about getting caught the next time you rearrange Snape's private stores!"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that, for all our sakes," said Professor Lupin dryly, wiping away her spontaneous tears without explaining them.

"It drives him up the wall," Harry explained, folding his cloak and putting it back in the gift wrap. "And he suspects something but can't prove anything, making it all the more fun. With this, I can actually _see_ his reaction immediately after he finds out."

"Best Christmas present ever," Ronnie heartily agreed. "Better than a maroon sweater that clashes terribly with my hair at any rate."

Professor Lupin took another sip of cocoa, clutching the ruby moon pendant tightly.


	10. Professor Quirrell

**Xenografts: cell, tissue or organ that is transplanted from one species to another different species.**

 _ **NOTE: Can I just reiterate that Harry has hazel eyes? Because he does you know, just like his mum.**_

* * *

"Have you blown anything up?" asked Herman suspiciously. "I smell burning."

Harry and Ronnie glanced at each other and chose not to comment. Draco snorted, helping Nanelle with her trunk.

"Let me guess," he said. "You two have something to do with the feast's delay?"

Harry grinned, waving him away. "To your table, snakey wakey!"

Draco sputtered in indignation, and Harry gave him a hug. Draco stiffened as those around them slowly grew quiet.

Ronnie didn't know why Harry, who didn't like physical contact in general, had decided to hug _Draco_ of all creatures, but she figured that even if Harry didn't understand the social repercussions for this uncharacteristic display of manly affection, Draco would.

Except he seemed to need the hug, so Ronnie shrugged and pulled Nanelle and Herman to her, yelling, "Group hug!"

Herman went bright red, Nanelle went bright purple, and by the time the feast ended, Ronnie was bright green.

* * *

"Maybe that last turkey leg was overkill..." she muttered, plodding to the Hufflepuff dormitories with Harry.

Harry hummed noncommittally. "We need to work on Nanelle."

Ronnie yawned and gave him a confused look. "Nanelle? What about her?"

Harry looked unaccountably serious, and Ronnie suddenly felt wide awake.

"She barely said a word today," said Harry, knocking on the barrel and entering the cheery yellow common room.

Ronnie followed after him. "So business as usual."

Harry shook his head. "It was a different kind of taciturnity. Something must have happened at home to her. And to snakey wakey too."

Ronnie didn't know what taciturnity was, and she didn't see what made Harry think that something had happened to two out of three of their friends, but she didn't question it.

"Right, so get her to give her opinion on every bleeding thing, keep asking her questions of the female variety," Ronnie listed, "bore myself to death in Herbology listening to her go on and on and on about _fuck knows what,_ and try not to strangle Draco without making it obvious I'm trying not to strangle him."

Ronnie looked to Harry for confirmation and Harry smiled at her, with teeth and everything, and Ronnie felt like she'd won the lottery.

* * *

A week into February, Harry's scar started hurting something terrible in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Professor Quirrell had sweat pouring down his neck, the students were barely paying him any attention as he stuttered on about trolls, and the Quidditch Finals were coming up, the last match being between Hufflepuff and Slytherin—Gryffindor had no competent Seeker and Ravenclaw had an overall weak team, leaving Slytherin, which had a solid team of dirty cheats, and Hufflepuff, which had a Harry.

The bets were 30:1 to Hufflepuff, for the first time in three hundred years.

The pressure was on, but between exam flurry, Herman's stressing, Ronnie's mourning over her pet rat (she had Scabbers mummified and kept in one of Lupin's cupboards as some sort of bizarre coping mechanism), Draco constantly picking fights with him because of 'friendly' house rivalry and Nanelle trying and failing to keep it together with finals fast approaching, Harry had very little time to dwell on it.

He was too busy keeping Nanelle's shit together for her, sassing Draco adequately enough to leave him speechless, and reminding Ronnie that Herman needed to take breaks so that Ronnie went and _made_ Herman take grudging breaks.

But the point was, his scar was hurting. Also, someone had tried to throw him off his broomstick, but after Herman set Snape's robes on fire and called it a day, everything was a-okay on that front.

"Sir, may I use the bathroom?" he asked through his splitting headache.

"O-of c-course, M-mister E-e-evans!" stuttered Professor Quirrell.

As soon as he left the classroom, the ache in his head receded.

He went to the nearest bathroom and splashed some water on his face. When he was turning the faucet to shut the water off, he noticed a carving of a snake on the tap's side. He was about to examine it a bit more closely when someone started giggling behind him.

He jumped about a foot in the air, startled, and stared as the ghost of a fifteen year old girl floated towards him.

"Hello," she said, giggling. "What are you doing in my toilet?"

"This is a girl's bathroom?" Harry asked, his voice strangely high-pitched.

She nodded, giggling. "Have you come to join me?"

Harry bid a hasty retreat.

* * *

The Hufflepuff-Slytherin match was only a few days away when Harry started noticing a black dog stalking Tarquin on the school grounds.

They seemed to be friends.

After Aunt Marge, dogs had never really appealed to him, but he supposed that if Tarquin had deemed it a friend, it was only right that Harry accepted the large black dog into the family. Officially, it must be understood.

He snuck into the kitchens (every Hufflepuff knew where the kitchens were—like a sort of rite of passage, Ronnie had once said) and acquired a plate of different meats, Tarquin at his heels.

"Hello there, fluff-bucket," Harry said, slowly walking towards the wary black dog with the plate of meat held in front of him. Tarquin had led him to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where he'd caught the black dog unawares. "You hungry? Don't worry, I come in relative peace."

The dog trotted over to him at an unthreatening pace and began tearing into the plate Harry had placed on the ground. Harry sat down on the floor, Tarquin curling onto his lap and mewling.

"You must be really hungry, huh?" he said when the dog was done eating, licking the plate clean and keening for more. Harry scratched the dog behind its ears.

"Next time, I'll bring you a bigger plate. Twice a day, if you don't mind Ronnie. She's my best friend, and she's really nice. Just lost her pet rat too, so she could use the company, I think. Not sure whether she'd be offended that her rat can be replaced so easily, or grateful that she has a new pet…"

Harry trailed off, noticing but choosing to ignore that the dog had stiffened at the mention of Ronnie's pet rat.

Clearly, Tarquin's friends didn't approve of Scabbers either.


	11. The Quidditch Finals

**Xenografts: the cell, tissue or organ that is transplanted from one species to a different species.**

 _ **NOTE: I hope the Quidditch game isn't too muddled up...**_

* * *

"We have to name it," drawled Draco, scratching the black dog behind its ears.

Ronnie tore the grass at her feet. "Why? Black Dog has a nice ring to it."

Nanelle chuckled, and the black dog licked her cheek, yipping happily. "I think he should have a proper name too. Any ideas?" she said, her confidence having improved leaps and bounds since returning from Christmas Break, where it'd been at an all-time low.

Herman looked up from his charms notes. "How about something like…well, we could call it by one of our middle names."

"We're not naming the dog Muriel," Ronnie said.

Draco laughed. "Your middle name is _Muriel?_ "

Ronnie growled at him, flushed a bright red, and the black dog shoved Draco in chastisement.

Harry grinned. "I think the dog would kill even _me_ if I named him Fleamont."

The black dog was nice enough to all of them, but it had a special kind of niceness for Harry that made him seem like a proper Evans family member.

He nudged him playfully, barking in agreement.

"I hardly think it wants to be called Icarus, although it's the best name by far," said Draco.

"Ha! Your initials spell dim!" cackled Ronnie, and Harry and Herman laughed.

Nanelle was too nice to.

"My middle name is Alice," she said. "After my mum, but that's a girl's name."

"My middle name is John, so—" began Herman, but was cut off by Draco and Ronnie's chorus of "Boring!"

Harry rubbed the dog's belly. "How about we name him something…how about we name him Grimmy?"

"Grimmy?" repeated Draco. "Why?"

Herman gave him an 'are-you-stupid?' look, and said, "Because it looks like the grim, I suppose."

Ronnie thinned her lips in contemplation. "It fits."

Nanelle nodded, and Herman said, "All in favour?"

Four 'aye's later, the black dog was named Grimmy.

* * *

It was the match that Harry's entire year had been building up to, and Ronnie was so nervous she had a stomachache.

"Merlin, this is it," she groaned, running into his room and ignoring Ernie's indignant squawk. "Nervous?"

She then took a good look at Harry's face and snorted. "'Course you're not. Stupid question."

Harry gave her a sleepy grin, rolling out of his bed, mindful of Tarquin sleeping on his feet on top of the covers, and rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

Ronnie grinned. "Ass-whooping time!"

Justin stared at her like she was an alien. "Is this normal in the wizarding world?"

* * *

The previous Quidditch match of the season had ended in a resounding victory for Hufflepuff, the one against Gryffindor.

Harry'd managed to catch the Snitch in under four minutes, breaking all sorts of records and making his way into the papers again, because his team literally sucked and he was carrying all of their deadweight (except Maxine O'Flaherty. She was a good beater), so he _had_ to catch the Snitch faster than any record.

This time, he had to _strategise_. Just getting the Snitch as fast as possible wasn't good enough. Not this time.

* * *

The stands were jam-packed, the Weasley twins were taking bets, Herman had a book opened in his lap that he wasn't concentrating on, Draco was booing the Hufflepuffs out of their stands (some went to Professor Sprout in tears. Draco muttered, "wusses" under his breath, so used to Ronnie fighting him back that it seemed odd now to go easy on a girl just because she was a girl) and Nanelle was having a panic attack.

"What if he falls off his broom?" she fretted, wringing her hands together. "It nearly happened last time, and we don't know how many people Harry's made enemies out of since the last game!"

Herman tried calming her down. "He'll be fine. We won't be rid of him that easily." The 'unfortunately' was subtext.

"B-but what if he gets hurt? Or permanent brain damage? Or-" she stopped herself, trying to swallow her tears as best she could, having unintentionally reminded herself of her parents.

Her mentally broken parents, who didn't recognise their daughter and who had left her with her paternal grandfather, and who loved her more than anything else in the world but didn't _know_ her anymore.

"Nanelle?" Herman asked worriedly, unnerved by the previously-fretting girl's silence. "Are you okay?"

Nanelle gave Herman a forced smile, nodding. "Just worried for Harry."

Herman scoffed. "I just hope he wins. I don't think my brain can handle a moping Evans."

Nanelle gave a small genuine smile at that.

* * *

"-and here come the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team! Fleet, Applebee, Spruce, Macavoy, McManus, O'Flaherty and Evans! Look at them...er, most of them go!"

Harry actually wanted to scream when he noticed that Tamsin Applebee and Maxus Spruce had bashed into each other just getting off the ground. This was already not boding well.

Maxine (the only decent player on the team and one of his - Kenyon's, he reminded himself, though _why_ someone who was only a substitute Seeker was the Captain, he didn't understand - beaters) shot him an ironic wince as he facepalmed, a vitriolic speech of monumental proportions already building up inside him.

Lee Jordan, commentator, chose not to talk more on the state of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team, keenly aware that he'd bet 12 galleons on their victory. "And the Captains shake hands-"

Kenyon borrowed the Keeper's, Fleet's, broom to go up and shake hands with Marcus Flint, who Harry thought looked like the unfortunate lovechild of a boulder and a toothache.

"On my whistle," Madame Hooch said, after Kenyon had given Fleet back his broom and she'd moved away. "No cheating."

Harry wondered why she said it, when she knew no one listened.

But all off-task thoughts fled his mind as the whistle blew, and all Harry could remember was Ronnie's frantic calculations.

 _"Hufflepuff," she'd said, "need to win by a margin of a hundred points Harry. But they have a **chance**."_

 _He'd said, "That's never going to happen. The Chasers suck too much."_

 _She'd given him a pale look of determination. "There's no rule saying non-Chasers can't make goals."_

So he'd trained his minio-teammates to watch the other team's Seeker while he and Maxine played Chaser, and until they got a hundred point lead, Fleet had _better_ not let any Quaffles in.

Of course, in the first few minutes, Fleet let in three Quaffles, but it could have been worse. Between the two of them, Maxine and he'd won sixty points, so they were in the lead by thirty points. Of course, they would've won more, but the Slytherin Keeper had saved one, Maxine had overshot one (she wasn't a Chaser for a _reason_ , but Harry couldn't play _all_ the positions by himself) and McManus, the other Hufflepuff Beater, was useless at his job, so they'd lost two goals to Bludgers.

Harry called a time-out half an hour in, windswept and out of breath. Hooch's whistle was nearly drowned out by the crowd's screams of "Evans is the man, if he can't do it, no one can!"

Ronnie needed to work on her rhymes, because from the green and silver side of the pitch, Draco was leading the well-coordinated chant of, "Hufflepuffs come falling down, Slytherin will take the crown!"

Maxine looked about ready to pass out, and there was an egg-shaped bruise above her right eye. McManus was frantically apologising. "I'm so _sorry!_ It came out of nowhere and-"

"'arry," croaked Fleet, who'd stopped one of the Slytherin Quaffles at the expense of his intestines, "it's 150-70 to us."

Kenyon looked pale and determined. "Right, what's our next move Evans?"

Harry himself had a torso littered with bruises and scratches, and his throat was hoarse from yelling at Fleet to "block _everything_ numbnut!" every five minutes, but the adrenaline rush more than made up for it.

"Kenyon," he said, looking at his Captain. "Sub with Fleet. I don't think he can take much more of a beating. McManus, you're as close to useless as there has ever been, but if you can't hit the Bludgers out of our way, _warn us."_

McManus winced but nodded, still smarting from the ruthless dressing down Harry had given him after the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match. He'd thought that Harry was being an uppity brat, all hot air and no talent, but then Harry had _won_. And again against Gryffindor, and really, it felt like he was doing it all by himself.

McManus' pride was going down the drain with every match, but at least they were winning, for the first time in his scholastic career. He'd bear with.

Mostly because Harry Evans was a _scary_ mofo, even though he looked so naive otherwise - Quidditch turned him into a _monster_.

"Macavoy, Spruce, Applebee," he said, voice nearly disappearing but no less captivating because of it, "Keep at it. He's getting closer and closer to the Snitch, but it's only a two more goals' lead before this is over. Maxine, you okay to go on?"

Maxine O'Flaherty gave him a wincing thumbs up, vision blurring in one eye but just as determined as the rest of the team to _win_.

Hufflepuff would _get_ the respect they deserved - they'd never gotten close enough to _glimpse_ victory, but right here and now, they could almost _taste_ it.

The whistle blew, and they were off again.

* * *

Grimmy and Tarquin stood under the stands, following Harry's every move with their animal eyes.

Sirius, if he pretended hard enough, could fool himself into believing that it was Jamie flying up there, what with how natural and confident Harry was on a broom.

But Sirius couldn't pretend that hard - it hurt too much.

So he watched his godson, the only important thing in his life, and he filled his empty soul with untainted _pride_.

* * *

Up in the teacher's stands, Remula Lupin was having a very hard time keeping her shit together, torn between worrying for Harry's safety, and rooting for a complete triumph over Slytherin.

Some things, it seemed, never changed.

* * *

Ronnie cursed the sky, binoculars in hand, trying to follow every move. "Why'd it have to rain _now?_ "

Herman had shut his book five minutes into the match, when Madame Hooch had called Flint out on a foul and Applebee had to take the shot and he missed by a mile, and was now nervously biting his lower lip.

Nanelle was nearly catatonic with worry, having talked herself out an hour ago, when the time-out had been called.

250-160 to Hufflepuff. They just needed _one_ more goal, and then Harry had to go find that bleeding Snitch, and then Hufflepuff would _win_.

But the rain was going to make it hard for Harry's visibility, and Ronnie just thanked Merlin it was a light drizzle and not a full blown thunderstorm. "I swear Spruce has two left eyes!" she screamed, much to Herman's chagrin, whose ears were still ringing from Ronnie's cheering at the last goal.

Nanelle croaked, "The one with the Quaffle looks really tired..."

Ronnie squinted at what Nanelle was talking about and saw it too - Maxine looked about ready to fall off her broom, and the only thing holding her up was sheer force of will.

Suddenly, their continuous suspense was broken by Lee Jordan's exclamation, "Higgs has seen the Snitch! He's racing after it - Applebee's not quick enough to stop him!"

Spruce tried to crash into Higgs from the other side, but he missed and crashed into Applebee, who started swearing a storm.

The entire crowd watched with bated breath as Harry _zoomed_ past the Slytherin Beater and chased after Higgs, his face nearly purple with how many bruises he had, but Ronnie kept her eye on the Quaffle, as did Marcus Flint.

Flint _slammed_ into Maxine and she went plummeting downwards; McManus dove for her; Macavoy, one of the actual Hufflepuff Chasers, intercepted Pucey and stole the Quaffle; Harry out-shot Higgs and almost touched the Snitch; Macavoy zipped past Montague, McManus caught Maxine and, for the first time the entire game, hit the Bludger at his intended target; the Bludger _slammed_ into the Slytherin Keeper's stomach; Macavoy shot the Quaffle; Harry caught the Snitch; Hooch blew the whistle for the foul.

The last three happened simultaneously, a split-second apart, but Ronnie screeched in triumph as Lee's scoreboard recorded the marks as 360-160 to Hufflepuff.

Three-quarters of the school burst into frenzied clapping and whooping, Herman yelled with a wide grin on his face, his book lying on the ground, forgotten in his excitement, the Slytherin Quidditch Team gobsmacked that they'd lost to _Hufflepuff_ , Harry holding the Snitch aloft with the brightest smile this side of the equator plastered on his face...

"HUFFLEPUFF WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP BY A SPLIT SECOND!" Lee hollered, gladly pocketing 48 galleons. "GO HUFFLEPUFF!"

Macavoy was engulfed in the biggest ever Hufflepuff group hug; a lobster had _nothing_ on her bright red face.

Twas a good day to be a Hufflepuff.

* * *

"You should play for the Cannons," Ronnie said, lounging on the grassy fields outside.

"Yeah," said Draco. "They suck as bad as the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team."

Ronnie took off her shoe and threw it at Draco's face.

Harry laughed.

* * *

 ** _Sorry for the wait! One more chapter to go, I think. Review please?_**


	12. Exam Results

**Xenografts: a cell, tissue or organ that is transplanted from one species to a different species. Just like the canon plot still exists, but with a bit of mixing and matching and twisting, the 'species', or the 'story', is the same, but the 'transplanted organ', or the 'genderbent characters', make it a completely different story.**

* * *

The exams sped past, and Harry had no idea what went on for most of it. He just hoped he'd succeeded in writing something that sounded even remotely credible.

He also thought he ought to give props to Professor Snape for being sadistically ironic, so of course he did.

In the middle of the practical exam where they had to successfully brew a Forgetfulness Potion with him breathing down their necks, Harry cleared his throat and said, "Sir, you're funny, and if you were the slightest bit nicer, you'd be my second favourite teacher."

Snape gave him a detention and took ten points off Hufflepuff, and three grades off his perfect potion.

It might've had to do with the lilac-hair dyeing Harry had done that morning, but he couldn't help it, or himself.

"Also sir," he said unrepentantly, and Herman groaned, unused to Harry's usual audacity in Potions, "lilac looks fetching on you."

The first evening of second year would be spent in detention.

Harry was rather chuffed that Snape believed he'd pass all his exams, considering he'd been calling Harry a leech on the collective brain capacity of the Hogwarts student body.

* * *

The Transfiguration practical _and_ exam were a breeze for Harry—somehow, the subject came to him naturally. Professor McGonagall had marked them on their turning a mouse into a snuffbox, the more decorated the better.

Seamus' blew up, Dean's was a violent shade of puce, Ronnie couldn't rid hers of its whiskers, Nanelle was in tears because her snuffbox still had mouse ears, Herman was being fussy about his perfectly plush creation, Draco was smugly preening at his jewel-encrusted one, and Harry...

"Mr Evans," Professor McGonagall whispered as she came up to his work station, staring at his snuffbox with something that looked suspiciously like tears. "How in Merlin's name did you manage that?"

Unbidden, several nosy students looked over to what was going on and stared at Harry's transfiguration masterpiece with shock and awe.

"Imagination and wish fulfilment Professor," Harry replied dutifully, the sheen from his gold and silver gilded replica of a 17th century German snuffbox with a Chinese floral design decorated with rubies and pearls making his face look ethereal.

Guess who got the highest score in Transfiguration in Hogwarts history?

Guess which Granger screamed in frustration as Harry _still_ didn't revise for his exams?

* * *

Herbology and History of Magic were the only two subjects Nanelle could talk about without bursting into tears; Ronnie didn't particularly like any of them, but she didn't particularly hate any of them either; Herman was _still_ fussing about his perfect grades; Draco hated Harry, but not for any conventional reasons.

" _How_ did you _fail_ Astronomy!?" he hollered in Harry's ear, making Tarquin hiss irritably from his perch on Harry's left shoulder. "I could've managed it in my sleep!"

Nanelle helpfully added, "I only marginally wanted to kill myself after that one."

Ronnie looked at her grades dispassionately and said, "Meh, I passed everything, so there's that."

Professor Lupin came into her office and saw them all sprawled there with varying levels of ease. "I take it the exams will be getting mixed reviews?"

Harry tilted his head in contemplation, very aware of Scabbers' embalmed eyes on him, saying, "Professor, History of Magic was my second favourite exam. You need to try harder."

Lupin took this criticism with a grin. "So I've heard. Minerva won't stop raving about your snuffbox. I haven't seen her this excited for anything since the Quidditch finals of '77."

"The last game my mum played?" Harry asked, and all of his friends quietened down.

Lupin, her blue eyes slightly misted over from memories, nodded. "The very one. Jamie'd promised to shave her head if the team lost, and then adopt an octopus."

Herman choked on his own spit.

"Did she win?" asked Draco in a strained voice.

Lupin scoffed. "Of course she did - her hair was on the line."

"That makes sense," Nanelle choked out, unable to comprehend Jamielle Evans.

Harry, on the other hand, grinned.

* * *

The Defense Against the Dark Arts exam...

Had been cancelled.

Something about Lord Voldemort possessing their stuttering mess of a Professor.

In other news, Ronnie now believed that Harry was a Seer.

* * *

Ronnie had passed all of her subjects; most of her results were in the 60%-70% range, with a 78% in History of Magic and 51% in Defense Against the Dark Arts - the replacement was a Ministry Official who had no idea what he was doing, and Quirrell hadn't exactly taught them much.

Herman had gotten a 100% in every subject barring Charms, in which he'd scored a ridiculous 112%. Draco still couldn't believe it.

"Totally rigged," he muttered, "Absolutely _mad_."

"What's mad is that you managed a consistent 99% in _everything_ ," said Ronnie, grabbing his results out of his hand. "Like, not on average 99%, but for _every single exam_ 99%. _How?_ "

Draco snatched his results out of Ronnie's hand with a glare. "I have a brain, for one. And it wasn't _everything_. I got a 110% in Astronomy."

Nanelle was just glad she'd passed _something_. "I mean, four out of seven is a good enough amount, right?"

Nanelle had managed to scrape over 50% in Charms, Astronomy and History of Magic, and her Herbology was 98%. Everything else was better left to the imagination.

"It could be worse," Harry dutifully agreed, mindful of Grimmy's slobber on his robes.

"Yeah," snorted Ronnie. "You could be _Harry_."

Harry Fleamont Evans' grades were the befuddlers of the entire Wizarding World. (His results had somehow been leaked to the Daily Prophet, who'd done a systematic breakdown of the exam and his psychological state during each exam, along with the credibility of each result in detail.)

 _Astronomy - 1%_

 _Charms - 83%_

 _Defense Against the Dark Arts - 0%_

 _Herbology - 12%_

 _History of Magic - 110%_

 _Potions - 79%_

 _Transfiguration - 150%_

Grimmy had managed to lay Harry's results sheet flat on the ground to see (although Harry knew for a fact that dogs can't read) and promptly began to make weird barking noises and roll on the floor.

"Is...Grimmy, are you _laughing_ at me?" Harry asked in mock put-out-ment.

Grimmy gave him a clear grey-eyed stare and nodded his shaggy head.

"This means war, you realise," Harry told Grimmy solemnly. Grimmy cocked his head to the side in a 'come at me bro' gesture.

Herman scrunched up his nose. "No, Harry, that's terribly unhygienic and - oh, why do I bother!"

Harry and Grimmy had a messy slugfest, and by dinnertime, Harry had mud in places he didn't even know existed.

* * *

"Don' worry Harry," said Hagrid, beard a tangled mess and eyes a kindly black. "I'll take good care o' yer dog."

"Bye Grimmy," Harry said, giving the large black dog a hug. "See you after summer break."

Nanelle scratched him behind the ears and Ronnie was sniffing back tears, having become extremely attached.

Herman stood awkwardly, before bursting into gasping sobs.

"I don't want to leave Hogwarts!" he yelled.

No one said anything. They all agreed with him.

"Emotional twit," Draco sniffed.

* * *

"It's yours," said Professor Lupin with a kind smile, giving him a photo frame with the moving picture of his mum and dad, happily spinning round and round for eternity in their wedding robes.

Harry gave her a huge hug, promising to write to her every day.

"I'll hold you to it," she said with a chuckle.

Harry wasn't ready to leave Hogwarts.

* * *

He got on the Hogwarts Express, and the train trundled on the tracks, all the way back to London.

The ride back involved Exploding Snap, vows of murder, Draco breaking the good news that Crabbe and Goyle had finally understood that they weren't obligated to hang around him anymore after nine months of explaining it to them, Nanelle losing her pet toad, Trevor, yet again, Ronnie and Tarquin finally making peace, Herman loaning Draco a muggle book ( _Fahrenheit 451_ by Ray Bradbury), Harry making plans with Ronnie and Draco to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley to get himself an actual broom, instead of the pathetic twig of a school broom he'd been using in all of his matches, and Hedwig hooting.

The ruby moon pendant that Professor Lupin had returned just before the exams had started rested securely over Harry's heart.

* * *

"I wonder what Voldemort will try next year," Harry mused aloud.

Everyone in the compartment flinched. "What do you mean?" asked Ronnie, having given up on telling Harry to stop saying You-Know-Who's name.

"Well, you all know the rumours, right?" he said, well aware that they all knew the rumours, largely because they'd been the ones to tell him. "He tried to make a comeback this year using Unicorn blood and Flammel's stone."

Herman shuffled uncomfortably, Nanelle avoided everyone's eyes, Draco looked pale and Ronnie nodded sharply. "You're saying he'll try something next year."

"I would, if I were him," Harry said.

Draco swallowed. "In light of the fact that this conversation has actually hit rock bottom, I'm going to go ahead and tell you all not to write to me this summer. At all."

Herman frowned. "Why not?"

"My…parents don't exactly…they made it clear during Christmas that they don't approve of the company I keep."

Ronnie shoved his shoulder in solidarity. Harry smiled at him proudly, making him blush and grin. Nanelle gave him a pleased smile, and Herman gave him a fiercely protective look.

"They're rather silly, aren't they?" Herman said snootily.

Harry was fairly certain he was missing something—he'd thought Draco's parents didn't approve because Nanelle and Ronnie were girls, but there seemed to be more than just that going on.

Oh well. He'd figure it out eventually.

* * *

 **End of Book 1**

 _ **Would you all like a sequel? Let me know and I'll start putting it up!**_


	13. Opal Orange - Preview

SEQUEL UP!

 **Xenografts: Opal Orange**

 _'And so the year begins with him socking a house elf in the nose and earning brownie points with his pet owl. Also, apparently, sinister things are afoot this year. Maybe he'll be involved this time.' Mildly genderbent cast, but Harry's still a guy. Second year AU [Sequel to Xenografts: Ruby Red]_

 _In which Harry, Ronnie, Herman, Draco and Nanelle have a bit of a run in with the Dark Lord. Nothing major though._

 _Of course, neither Herman nor Nanelle's nerves agree, but who counts their opinions, right?_

 _Draco's too busy being fainted to comment._

 _Ronnie's used to it._


End file.
